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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090083">Beyond Words, Darling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupine_phoenix/pseuds/lupine_phoenix'>lupine_phoenix</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Downton Abbey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But he keeps "forgetting", F/M, I'm Sorry, Other, Rare Pairings, Tom tries to tell Mary he wants to go to America, and Mary gets upset, and everyone but Mary KNOWS that Tom loves her, but forgives him, entirely upstairs, i'll write another one set downstairs, mostly just Tom's POV because why not??????, that's not a promise but a maybe, this is just brary trash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:35:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupine_phoenix/pseuds/lupine_phoenix</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You considered marrying him.”</p><p>“I did... Will you miss me, Branson?” she asked him again.</p><p>“Beyond words, darling.”</p><p>-+-+-+-</p><p>Mary had a dream about Branson... Now she realizes—too slowly—that she's falling for her brother in law.</p><p>Season 5 AU</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anna Bates &amp; Mary Crawley, George Crawley &amp; Mary Crawley, Mary Crawley &amp; Robert Crawley, Mary Crawley &amp; Violet Crawley, Rose MacClare &amp; Tom Branson, Sybbie Branson &amp; George Crawley, Sybbie Branson &amp; Tom Branson, Tom Branson &amp; Cora Crawley, Tom Branson &amp; Mary Crawley, Tom Branson &amp; Robert Crawley, Tom Branson &amp; Violet Crawley, Tom Branson/Mary Crawley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic IS finished, but will most likely be edited through!!!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Small edits were made to each chapter, as of May 23rd, 2020. The original storyline was not compromised in any way. New chapters will roll in soon! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just a kiss,” his melodic words danced from his lips. “One kiss, and we sweep it under the rug. No one has to know, Mary.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mary leaned forward, smirking jovially at the man she had come to know over time. “One kiss? What if I’m found out?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was that laugh, warm and happy, that she knew so well. It sent shivers down her spine and delighted her in a way she hadn’t felt in so many years. The man took her hands. “Then who could use it against you? I’m hardly a man to hurt you, Mary.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She pursed her lips. “Can I ask you something silly?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nothing you say is silly,” her dream man said to her. She remembered those soft blue eyes, how different they were from Matthew’s bright ones. She could smell him, too, this man—it was something she couldn’t place, slowly filling her mind and senses. It was driving her mad; it did all the time. Why was everything about him so slowly torturous?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Say my name, again, please,” she whispered quietly. “I love hearing you say it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mary,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “Mary,” he said again, now kissing in between her brows. “Mary.” Her nose. “My darling Mary.” He kissed her lips, ending the dream.</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Lady Mary Crawley woke up sweaty and frightful. She couldn’t recall exactly why, as she didn’t remember everything about the dream, but she had a faint prickle of intuition that told her whatever had gone on through her mind that night, Tom Branson was involved. Nevermind the dream was realistic — all of her dreams had been, recently — but this dream seemed to top the rest of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t remember the details. The only thing she took back from the waking world was one simple, curious, wrong wondering: the taste of someone’s lips. Mary didn’t dare try to wonder too hard about it, fearful of how it could take up the rest of her day. If it was just a stranger’s mouth, or even a lover like Tony Gillingham’s embrace, she could understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead, her mind chose the most unlikely person in the world to feature as the subject of her fantasies that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t dare think of his name more than she needed to. His face was horrific enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary wiped her face with a guttural whine. It was time to wake up. She sat up, threw off her covers, and went to ring for Anna.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forget about the dream.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to see George,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head. She took a deep breath in; if she forgot quickly, maybe she would be able to face the day. “I was just thinking of his father… that’s it…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, her poor baby. George had never known Matthew. Mary did feel sorry for her sweet little George, and part of her wanted her boy to be loved the way a father loves his son. Although Mary wasn’t sure if she would find love like Matthew’s, again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fluffed her hair out, wrapping her robe around her body. She sat on her bench and waited for her maid to come, needing to tell someone. Even if she could dress herself, she needed to talk to Anna desperately about that dream she had. Anna always understood her problems — or at least tried to. And if anybody knew about desires of forbidden or unlikely love, it was her. Mary knew she could trust Anna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After about ten minutes, Anna opened Mary’s door with a tray of food in hand and clothes draped over her arm. Mary never felt such relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’lady,” she greeted, nodding her head. She brought a smile to the room, but it quickly fell to match with Mary’s worry. “You look fretful, this morning, m’lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary’s chest swelled up with air, and she let it out just as fast. “Anna, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> fretful. I had the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>unnerving</span>
  </em>
  <span> dream.” She stood, taking the tray of food from Anna’s hands. “I don’t feel like having you dress me this morning, you can leave breakfast on the bed. I really just want to talk to you about this — this terrible dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A dream, m’lady?” Anna laughed a little. “It’s just a dream. It can’t hurt you.” She put the clothes on the bench in front of the bed, sitting on the plush comforter. Mary sat next to her with knit eyebrows and tense shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dreamt,” she started slowly, opening her hands to express her process, “that I was flirting with and kissing a man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A stranger, m’lady?” Anna arched a brow. “It could just be a silly dream —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Mary pulled back, surprised at how quickly she cut in. “No, not a stranger,” she said, hesitant about answering. She didn’t want to come out right with the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I ask whom?” Anna queried, sitting closer to the lady. Mary’s skin felt hot. She wet her lips, nodding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing, but I dreamt it was…” She swallowed, shaking her head and avoiding Anna’s eyes. Mary squirmed to be comfortable in her seat; she was embarrassed to say who it was out loud. “I dreamt that man I was with was —” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock on the door, interrupting them. Mary was irritated by the intrusion; couldn’t she ever get some privacy to talk with someone? There was always someone who needed her! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” she called, her sleek brows furrowing in anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just me,” Tom Branson said through the white wood. He laughed nervously on the other side, which made Mary want to laugh hysterically. He was nervous, and she was melting into comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He poked his head in, covering his eyes. “May I come inside, Lady Mary?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may,” Mary said, proud at how even her tone was. She stood, opening the entrance for him. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>indecent</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom grinned at her little joke. “Good to know; at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> women don’t worry about always being beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it about always wanting to be beautiful or always needing to be beautiful?” Mary asked, tilting her head at him, a small tug at her lips forming into a smile. From the corner of her eye, Mary could see that Anna was already putting the pieces together. Anna’s features looked like someone had tugged the skin behind her ears to make her face longer, that’s how surprised she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant that you are beautiful,” Tom argued with humor. He breathlessly added for emphasis, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Already</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He grinned, giving away tiny crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary’s eyes flew open wide, partially because of how well he wore the smile lines, but mostly from his jest. Mary hadn’t noticed those tiny details before, much less felt so flustered by him… “Tom, you flatterer. What did you really come for?” She clasped her arms at her front, trying to see what the agent was thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom tilted his head as she had; like he was watching her just as carefully. His smile then quickly melted with tiny pupils of regret. He groaned. “Bloody hell! I forgot! I suppose I just came to say hello, then, since I can’t remember. I’m sorry —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a big deal, Tom,” Mary said, beaming at him. “Tell me when you do remember, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Lady Mary.” Tom nodded his farewell, then left. Mary shut the door with a thumping, bumping heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, m’lady,” Anna whispered, covering her mouth. She laughed happily, taking the noblewoman’s hands. “I should’ve known! Oh my! You dreamt of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tom Branson?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, Anna, you make it sound like it’s embarrassing,” Mary mumbled, hiding her face behind her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Worn Leather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tom tries to tell Mary about America.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Don't kill me</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tom hadn’t forgotten why he wanted to see Mary, to be truthful. It was still on his mind, fresh as a picked scab. Tom wanted to talk with her privately about a place across the ocean, far as he could go: </span>
  <em>
    <span>America</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p><span>He was ready to say it, ready to tell her, except it was all gone once he took a swim in her dark brown eyes. It </span><em><span>changed his mind</span></em> <em><span>completely </span></em><span>about telling her. </span></p><p>
  <span>“I’m a bloody imbecile,” he swore under his breath. “Calling her beautiful?” Tom shook his head. “Idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom! There you are!” a chipper voice came down the hallway. He stilled, smiling and feeling a little relaxed. Rose was running up the corridor to see him, a glint in her eyes that said she was up to something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Rose. How are you?” he asked, turning to face her. He held his hands behind his back. “You’re looking excited this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am excited! I wanted to ask Cousin Mary to help me plan a cocktail party for a friend of mine, but since you’re with her </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you can help, too, right?” Rose was bouncing on her toes, a permanent, genuine smile always on her face. Tom wondered if Rose was ever really unhappy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he knew she sometimes was, but he was impressed nonetheless. Maybe envious, but not really. He was more or less curious about this cocktail party. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. What’s the theme of this party?” he asked, giving the younger girl a sly and mischievous smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love, obviously!” She held his shoulders, giggling. “Lost and newfound. Friendship and romance and…</span>
  <em>
    <span> oh!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She looked at the ceiling like she was deciding on swooning or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re planning someone’s pairing, aren’t you?” Tom arched a brow, amused. “I’ll play along. Who are the lucky two?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking Cousin Mary and Lord Gillingham,” she whispered. A juvenile smirk accompanied her answer. “But you must promise not to tell. Promise me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> promise me?” She gave him a baby face. Sybbie made that face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like when dealing with his Sybbie, he fell for the face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise,” he said. “But I’ll only help with the party; I won’t conspire against Lady Mary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew I could count on you!” Rose exclaimed, kissed his cheek. Just as quick as she had appeared, she departed for the opposite direction. It was as if Tom hadn’t even said his last sentence. He didn’t mind. Mary could choose for herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if Lord Gillingham knows how she tastes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he found himself thinking. He squeezed his eyes shut. America was looking really good and really bad at the same time, and Lady Mary was the reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom made his way down to the library, his mind pounding.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I need to tell her, though somehow I can’t. Why? </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Later, after they started working… after they were alone… Tom worked up the courage to bring up the topic of America. He studied Mary, lost for a moment. He wanted to take in everything about her: the way her hair curled around her ear; her pouting expression when she thought; her chuckle or her little notes to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he her brother or her friend? He wasn’t sure. But he wanted oh so much to be as close as he could —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, Tom?” Mary asked suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mary, I remembered what it was I wanted to talk to you about,” Tom said, pretending as if he hadn’t heard her. She would be fine without him, he was sure of it. “I was wondering if you thought it would be good for me to look for a wife, again. While we’re young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t really be thinking of that, can you?” Lady Mary inquired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t quite want to, after Miss Bunting and her episode with Lord Grantham,” he conceded. Tom met Mary’s cold brown eyes. His heart leapt, although it could have been from talking about marrying once more. “I want Sybbie to have a nice mother, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom Branson knew it was never going to be anything simple, or anything he could get away with. Tom had been in a similar situation, yes; but this was different. He had children to think about, not women (any of them; Marigold and George were as dear to him as Sybbie). It was out of the future’s sake — </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sybbie’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>sake — that Tom was even considering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to mention the small peeks he kept sneaking at his sister-in-law…how beautiful she was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right to want that,” Mary muttered. “God knows I want George to have a father. Being a single parent is well and all, but it isn’t best, in my opinion.” The expression she wore added on </span>
  <em>
    <span>If the world were different…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Lord Grantham knew I was ready to look again, he might not want me to bring her back to the house. If I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> marry, again, can I even stay here?” He sighed. “I can’t believe that everyone thought I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly</span>
  </em>
  <span> that taken with Miss Bunting, to top it all off. That’s why I wanted to ask you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave the woman a quick glance, too embarrassed. Mary looked at him with sympathy and something else he couldn’t quite place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. I suppose we just want you to be happy. Is that too much to ask?” She laughed bittersweetly, folding her hands in front of her chest. “I never thought you would be swept up by Miss Bunting. I didn’t. I’ll say that.” She sucked her teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not answering my question about if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> marry,” he said with a sad smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary gave him a cheeky grin. “I would beg you to stay here; Heaven knows I’ve grown too used to you.” She almost sounded sad, except her laugh ran from her gorgeous mouth. Her lips were displayed in a way where Tom could why Matthew kissed her publicly so often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…Not that he wanted to. She was just beautiful. Mary, unlike Sybil’s warm and energetic passion (the kind that always made him think of wildflowers or a summer’s day) was beautiful like cool but worn leather. She embodied necessity and a soft underside.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear God, why am I thinking like this? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tom asked himself, trying to focus on the conversation at hand. He wanted to tell Mary he wanted to go to America if he couldn’t find a wife. “Would you be begging, even if my wife wanted to move?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You talk like you’re already married,” she drawled, shooting him a look. “I won’t miss just you: I would miss Sybbie, as well.” Mary sat down at the desk in the library, looking through papers without really reading them. “If I needed to, I would convince your wife to be my most dearest friend.” She cocked her head. Tom saw just how melancholy she was at just a mention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose you’re right,” he said, sitting down next to the noblewoman. “I should wait. Why fuss over something that hasn’t happened, yet?” He laughed, but it was empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you do wait,” Mary whispered. Her crisp words tried to hide her delicate heart. Tom’s own heart started to beat at a large drum, harsh and starting slow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” he tried, hoping to change the mood, “Rose wants to plan a party. She asked us to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no,” Tom answered. “You. I asked if I could help, but since we’re a package deal…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His little tease brought a bubble of laughter — real laughter — from Mary. “Package deal, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Tom reached over and kissed her hair impulsively. They both ignored it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sort of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that something new you’re trying?” Mary asked. She arched a brow as her lips tugged upward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I suppose so,” Tom said. “But only for special occasions.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Breakable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's dinner time with the Crawleys</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mary was unsure of what to feel, to say the least. Walking into her room to get ready for dinner, she realized she was in a daze. It was just a soft peck to her hair, yet she was holding onto so many things. Tom’s soft embrace; the sharp but sweet smell of cologne and honey; how Branson held her face like she was breakable. Delicate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary wanted to feel breakable to someone again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Anna, this is dreadful,” she cried, relieved to see her lady’s maid. She sat down in front of her mirror. Anna shut her door for her. Mary pinched the bridge of her nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’lady?” Anna asked. She folded Mary’s spreadsheet and set it on the bench. “What happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>, per se.” Mary thought back to the smell Tom carried. Or maybe it was the way his lips formed words differently. Or it could have been his eyes; either way, it was driving her insane. “I may have more than a dream’s experience, Anna,” she said carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, m’lady?” Anna teased. “You know, Tom Branson would have been a fine choice in a different world.” She set the spreadsheet down and grabbed Mary’s brush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary fluffed her hair out. “In a different world, we wouldn’t be given the opportunity to grow so close.” She closed her eyes as Anna pulled the brush through her locks. “He was rather affectionate as we worked. I can only assume that something is going on or I was imagining things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How affectionate? Perhaps I can help, m’lady,” Anna offered, starting to tease her hair in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he sat close to me, and talked about if he married again,” she said passively. “He kissed my hair —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A kiss? Oh, my lady!” Anna laughed excitedly. “He kissed you! Oh, I knew that look meant something!” Anna grabbed the hair oil next to Mary’s wrist, but all Mary could think of was </span>
  <em>
    <span>What look?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look? Whatever are you talking about?” Mary’s heart had moved to beat in her throat. “The way I looked at him? Or did he look at me in a different way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna hid her smile. “Nothing, m’lady, just this morning. How you two locked eyes, that’s all I meant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a small smirk to her long-time friend, Mary warned, “I hope you aren’t playing me a fool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna laughed at that. “I would never m’lady. Now, back to getting ready for dinner. Would you like to wear the pink or the black dress…?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Mary had decided, in the end, for the black dress. Its sequins at the belt glittered and drizzled down to the skirt, while the top half had soft lace patterns sewn in like silken velvet. She convinced Anna to let her hair hang loose, as well, with pins holding her hair out of her face like delicate fingers of metal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary relished the feeling of being beautiful. She loved how she could express herself with looks alone and still seem cold without having to let her walls down. If there was one thing she hated, it was being vulnerable, being on the brink of shattering or letting walls down. It was frightening to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless, of course, it was the way that Tom made her feel vulnerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she made her way to her seat, she noticed how Rose was bouncing with excitement at the dinner table, with Tom whispering to her in a prankish way. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ohh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Mary knew Rose was the type to scheme, but she felt a prick in her heart at the idea that Tom was included and she wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t suspect she’d really do that, do you?” Rose whispered, eyes wide with whatever this newfound knowledge was. Mary wondered whom it was about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom gave a musical chuckle. “I do. I know her well, more than I knew my wife.” That stung. What woman could he know better than darling Sybil, other than perhaps his daughter or his mother?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That complicates things, doesn’t it?” Rose laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Complicates what?” Mary asked, sitting down next to Tom. He wore a white tie and a sharp suit. Mary couldn’t remember who was coming for dinner for the life of her, and that was probably a good thing. It meant that she wouldn’t have time to stew over what she hated about that particular guest. In the meantime, she could gaze into Tom’s blue eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just matters of the party Rose wants to throw. She’s not sure who to invite,” Tom answered. Underneath the table, fingers wrapped around hers. She pretended not to feel her skin crawl. He smiled, gave her hand a small squeeze, then let go. “Have you heard from Tony Gillingham?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” she said. She tried to sound even. “I’ve been avoiding him. He wants me to marry him and I’m not sure what my answer will be.” She gave Tom a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully he’ll be a lucky man.” His expression was hard to read. Mary couldn’t tell if he was surprised or disappointed. He just feigned a tiny smile and turned his head away. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Tom wasn’t expecting the feelings that came along with Mary getting married. He wasn’t expecting the squeeze to his chest or the stone to drop into his belly. Above all things, he didn’t expect his lungs to forget how to breathe in a sort of anger that he never associated Mary with until that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A warm coal sat in place of his heart. Tom could have ignored it, but it lay with a searing pain. Impossible to ignore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would think that I would be the lucky woman,” Mary said. “He’s different; but not quite the different I would have hoped for.” Doubt littered her confident words. Tom could breathe a little easier, now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of different are you looking for, exactly?” Tom slowly whispered to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary smiled wryly. “Different in a way… someone who I can love through the tired days and the hot and messy ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom smiled. He didn’t want to help Mary be with Gillingham. “Maybe Tony will grow to be that for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dinner had gone on smoothly. Everyone was getting along, laughter rang through the meal, and it was a jolly good time. Robert hadn’t seen such a natural evening since before Matthew died. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How odd</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought as he left for bed that night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why would Matthew have played any role?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He felt silly, like a schoolboy who should have known the answer to a simple equation. Yet, reason why dinner was so different, why it seemed like the evenings when Matthew was still walking the Earth, eluded him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why, those days were when Mary was happiest—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hold the bloody phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The earl turned to his wife. “Cora, darling,” Robert said carefully, sorting his own thoughts out as he spoke, “was Mary acting rather strangely, tonight?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that you mention it, yes,” Cora replied, her jaw dropping. “She was laughing a lot with Tom—” Cora cut herself off, staring at her husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t think Tom has anything to do with this, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I certainly do!” Cora said with a wicked grin. “I know he was married to Sybil, but they’ve definitely grown together into different people. Robert, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>acted</span>
  </em>
  <span> like husband and wife tonight!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert smirked at his scheming wife. “You’re plotting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re plotting, too, don’t chide me,” Cora said. She looked like a cat who was catching more mice than usual. “Will you help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I’ll bloody help!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Roses, Lilies, and Irishmen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tom and Mary talk; Robert confronts Tom. Insert Granny</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Lilies and rice. White filling his vision. Robert’s supportive and proud smile from the crowd. Mrs. Branson. New gold on Tom’s finger, clapping filling his ears. A sense of new joy, the sense that Sybil understood how happy that damned woman made him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She would spin in a gorgeous dress, dancing with George and Sybbie. Marigold in Edith’s lap. Tom, sitting as his chest swelled with pride, beaming at the beautiful mother playing with her children. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His</span>
  <em>
    <span> children. Cousins and siblings. Uncle, father. Stepfather. Husband. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He would walk to embrace his bride…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom sat, clicking his nails against the wooden desk in the library’s office desk. It had been a week since Mary told him that she was considering accepting Lord Gillingham’s proposal, and Rose’s party was only hours away. He knew what Rose was planning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew what she was up to. He couldn’t let her follow through, but he wanted Mary to be happy. Even if it meant some racecar-driving idiot who constantly reminded her of Matthew’s death. If it meant Mary was indescribably happy, he would push for it until he died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Tony Gillingham… the damn bastard, so arrogant. Thinking he could just woo Mary with fancy words? It made his blood boil. Tom at least knew he had nothing but effort to offer Mary. He had no more than what he offered Sybil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom couldn’t grasp why the bloody hell he let Rose’s plan take place. He couldn’t understand why having </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> make Tony Gillingham jealous was productive! The thought of displaying his affections as false… well…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made him anxious; angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only that, but this game had been tossed around back and forth, deepening his feelings. He was bursting at the seams to ask her for some sort of resolution —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom?” a lovely, worrying voice asked him, stopping the flow of his river of thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” He snapped back into reality, locking eyes with Mary. They had been talking about something, although he couldn’t recall what it was. He was never paying attention to her words, anyway. Just the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry; I’m distracted over the party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary gave a small, short laugh. “I asked if you’d save me a dance; it’s quite alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mary, I’ll always save you a dance.” He playfully winked at the woman, his lips tugging into a smile. The smile, though genuine, felt like a mask. It took him a moment to figure out why — America had seemed as far away as the stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ducked his head, ashamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Golly… am I that bad of a dancer?” Mary asked quietly. Tom must have looked disappointed. He was. He didn’t want to leave Downton, or England, or the Crawleys, or Mary. He didn’t want to leave his best friend. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Possibly more than that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If he really was in love with her, he would have to leave. His heart squeezed tightly as he prepared to tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking,” he mumbled. He took her hand, again, like at dinner days ago. Mary let herself be comfortable with the contact. He found his heart leapt at her tiny smile and happy eyes. He smiled back — he was compelled to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about? Can I help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About… starting over.” Tom braced himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Mary’s eyebrows knit together, and her grip on his fingers became loose. “What? Tom, I don’t understand,” Mary told him, shaking her head. “Start over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want opportunity,” he explained. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat away. He bit his lip and stood to kneel next to the noble, stubborn woman he had grown to adore. “I want Sybbie to have a good life; one where she can be happy, darling.” He took her other hand, lacing their fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can she not be happy here?” Mary asked. Her offense was apparent on her face, in her voice. She ripped her hand away from Tom’s immediately. Her eyes were shining, tinted red from tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling, no, I didn’t mean that — I </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Tom frantically tried, taking her hand, again, kissing her knuckles. Neither of them should have ignored how he could call her </span>
  <em>
    <span>darling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, something so intimate. How they sat in a way they begging for the other, in a way where words couldn’t express how badly they wanted each other. How… how… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you mean?” Mary cried quietly, shaking her head. “You’re not making sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want a simple life for Sybbie,” he whispered. He wiped her eyes. “I want to take her to Am—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Robert said, arching a brow. “Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary was the first to stand up. “Everything is fine.” She didn’t fake a smile. She didn’t use a nasty tone. She was vulnerable, but strong: she was Tom’s Mary. She wiped her nose gently and left the room with a brisk walk. The loud slam of the door was the only thing that really conveyed her anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to explain why I walked in to see you holding my eldest daughter’s hands,” Robert said strongly, turning to face Tom once the door had been shut for a few seconds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Right now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thought Tom had was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank God he didn’t see I kissed them, too.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He exhaled deeply. He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until then. “I told her I was considering leaving Downton,” he began. “I was trying to get her to calm down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Robert stared at his feet, then back up at Tom. “Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantaneously, he wanted to say ‘No!’ Branson wanted to run away and tell Mary he was going to propose to her instead of bring up America — </span>
  <em>
    <span>propose</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bloody hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>? — but he simply nodded. His trembling lip was the only thing giving him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s a shame,” Robert sighed. He set a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You’re like my son, Tom. And even though Sybil was your wife, I think you’re quite alright to love anyone you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s just it, Lord Grantham,” he said, barely audible. A tear slipped from his eye onto his cheek. “I can’t bear this feeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What feeling, exactly?” Robert asked more questions under that one, with even more questions on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t bear to think of leaving. But I can’t stand being the odd man out,” Tom said, forcing a smile. He felt like screaming, instead. He moved his hands to emphasize his desperation. “I also want Sybbie to find out who she is in a land of nothing but opportunity; I’ll miss Mary, but I need to at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> what America has.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert smiled sadly. “Just Mary?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom would have laughed along, but instead he closed his eyes and sucked his teeth as he silently cursed himself for slipping up. Robert turned Tom to face him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized quite how much you had…” The second-oldest Crawley trailed off, digging his fingers into Tom’s shoulders in support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been trying to forget,” he said meekly. He felt small; he wanted a hug; he wanted to cry to someone. But he didn’t want to sob in front of his father-in-law. “I see her the way Sybil saw her: terrified of being picked apart and discarded, yet so, so beautiful. I see all the good qualities that she lets come through.” He took a shaky breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really in love with Mary, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom sucked in a slow inhale. “I know it’s not right, but I know this feeling. If she doesn’t feel the same, I will have to leave… even for just a little while.” He tried to stand as still as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boy, it may not be</span>
  <em>
    <span> orthodox, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but I haven’t seen anything so right since your spouses walked the earth!” Robert laughed joyfully. He pulled Tom into a tight embrace. “Cora will be so happy to hear that she was right —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would prefer if you didn’t say anything until it’s on my terms,” Tom said quietly, slowly and carefully hugging back. “Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Yes, I won’t say a thing.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Mary didn’t know how long she was crying. She just sat in a small room she didn’t recognize because of the large wells of tears, stifling sobs. Tom? Leaving? He would leave her! George would miss his uncle and his cousin! Mary would miss Tom and her niece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mary? Mary, are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary jumped. She gripped her heart through her chest. Granny came into the room. “Oh… it’s just you. I’m sorry to burden you, but you have to help me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <span>...DUN DUN DUN!!!....</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Two-Sided</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Granny gives Mary advice; Rose and Tom devise a plan.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I honestly don't know what'll happen XD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“My help? My dear, with what?” Violet made her way down the staircase. “What is wrong?”</p><p>“Oh, Granny… it’s just… Tom,” Mary managed, taking a deep breath in. She relaxed her shoulders and dabbed at her eyes. She looked up helplessly at the Dowager Countess.</p><p>“Branson?” Violet should have suspected something had been happening when Tom Branson’s whole manner changed at dinner a week ago. She had thought nothing of it at first, just that someone may have brought up an upsetting topic, but looking back, Tom and Mary sat rather closely. “What about him?”</p><p>“He’s leaving, and the party is tonight. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him!” She started to break down again.</p><p>Violet sat down, grabbing Mary by the hand. “Do you know where?” She pursed her lips in thought. The Dowager Countess was finding it so hard to accept. Branson, leaving? Why? </p><p>“No, we were… I cut him off before he could say anything.” Mary was keeping something to herself, and Violet didn’t push. After all, this was something Violet hadn’t seen in Mary before. </p><p>It was different from despair, and nowhere near the usual misery Mary had wallowed in for all but a few years. It wasn’t selfish in her granddaughter’s usual style, either. Mary didn’t pout, she didn’t grumble. She looked grief-stricken like she heard a dear friend had been taken up to Heaven. </p><p>Oh, <em> that </em> Violet could distinguish. </p><p>In all her years, she had seen death’s solemn face, and in her age, sensed it creeping (though still slowly). She had seen wailing mothers, mourning sisters. The face was plain to her. What confused her, however, was that Mary just didn’t handle death that way. In fact, Violet didn’t settle on what it was until Mary was looking down at her hands, unsure of what to do.</p><p>Mary was <em> lost </em> without Tom. Or rather, it would have been like losing a spouse. It was certainly strange to come to terms with, but not impossible.</p><p>Violet sucked her teeth, saying only this: “That boy better <em> not </em> leave. I am surprised at <em> him </em>, but more at what he’s done to you.”</p><p>Mary’s jaw went slack. She furrowed her brow, sitting up straight. Ah. Back to her senses so soon. “Done to me? Granny, he has not <em> done </em>anything to me!”</p><p>Violet only offered a judgemental look. “Hasn’t he?” She set a hand in her granddaughter’s lap. “You’re going to be late to Rose’s party; I’m sure you’ll get it fixed up.”</p>
<hr/><p>Mary was shocked, to say the least, on top of heartbroken. First, Tom was leaving her. Second, Granny sees her shattered, torn to shreds, and says to go to Rose’s party? Was she mad? </p><p>Did she not see how hurt Mary was? She didn’t want to see Tom enjoy himself with other women, or see him smile and joke along with the rest of the family like he hadn’t been planning on abandoning them. She didn’t want to see his handsome face. She didn’t want anything to do with him at the moment. She just wanted to run away from him. Granny must have gone mad if she thought Mary was going to get through pain like that.</p><p><em> Granny’s been mad since before I was born </em>, she reminded herself gently. She still wanted to wail and cry, to hide away from the hurt, but something occurred to her like wood surfacing in the water. Tom wasn’t leaving yet. She could still see him one last time. That made Mary’s whole chest pound with… not anticipation, no, but something like it. A mix between dread and excitement.</p><p>“I better get ready,” she whispered to herself, fixing her eyes gently. She stood from where she was, and found her way back to her room with swift and determined steps. She was going to make sure that Tom knew how important he was to her or she would embarrass herself trying.</p>
<hr/><p>“Okay, Tom, do you remember your instructions?” Rose asked, beaming with her child-like excitement. The room they cleared out was big enough for dancing and wine and champagne, with space for whatever jazz band Rose decided to employ. Tom was impressed… he always was. But a heavy stone sat in his stomach as he looked around the room.</p><p>He was really doing this?</p><p>“I remember my instructions,” he told her, smiling kindly. “Dance with Mary the entire time until my queue. I got it, Rose.”</p><p>“No! Those aren’t your instructions,” Rose announced with a smirk that Satan was envious of. The stone dropped farther — at this point, Tom didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved he didn’t have to be dancing with Mary. At this point, he felt like Rose could see right through him, that everyone could see through him, and he was nothing but a sad, lovesick fool who didn’t know how to even hint at his own feelings.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re going to dance with Cousin Mary the entire time. Cousin Robert told me everything!” She grinned from ear to ear. The stone in Tom’s belly became a timed bomb, ticking and causing his body to tremble. </p><p>“Lord Grantham told you…?” His breath became short, eyes wide. No, no, no! He had promised! What if Mary found out? What would she think? Would her opinion of him change? He stumbled backward, falling into a chair. “Oh, <em> my God… </em>”</p><p>Rose noticed Tom’s panic. “Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me. Oh! Before you get upset with him, I made him tell me after I overheard a little bit.”</p><p>
  <em> “How much did you overhear, Rose?” </em>
</p><p>“I was going to ask you about the party, and I had passed Mary in the hallway.” She sat down next to him at a clothed table. “I almost opened the door and I heard Cousin Robert ask you something about you ‘truly being in love with Mary,’ and” — she sighed with a dreamy expression — “I just couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Tom’s head buzzed with air. It felt empty, just buzzing. Somehow, he ended up staring at the tongues of his shoes. “I suppose I should expect more people asking if I want to marry her, too…” He pinched his eyes closed, trying to relax his shoulders. “Rose, please, please, please, don’t say anything else to anyone. I want Mary to find out on my own terms.” He lifted his head and looked up at her.</p><p>“I’ll try my best not to say anything; I promise.” She set her hand on Tom’s knee. “This will end right. True love always wins.”</p><p>Tom chuckled sadly. “If true love always wins, I never would have had the chance to fall in love with Mary, and Mary would never have opened up to me.” He sighed. “Sybil was my everything. I would have moved mountains and killed villains for her. Sybil was my partner, and I was hers. We were evenly matched in every way. But Mary… I don’t feel like a hero with Mary. I don’t feel like I could do anything… Mary just makes me feel like we’re two sides of the same coin.</p><p>“I don’t believe everyone has a soulmate. I believe everyone has a soul they share, and souls they were meant to touch. Sybil and I didn’t share a soul. She was everything that made my whole spirit soar. Mary may not even share one with me. Maybe she’s the one, maybe she’s not; but Mary knows how to be my challenge and my comfort. I would have lived happily ever after with Sybil. I loved her beyond my imagination. I also know that I love Mary to the brim, beyond that. I don’t know a word strong enough to describe my love for her.”</p><p>Rose didn’t say anything for a little while. The buzzing in Tom’s head only became fuzzier. It felt so nice to get that out into the open… </p><p>“Tom,” Rose started quietly. “That’s beautiful.”</p><p>“I know her better than I ever knew Sybil. I don’t want to replace Sybil; I don’t want to replace Matthew. I just want to love her,” he whispered. </p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t try your hardest to tell her, Tom, you might lose her… I already invited Lord Gillingham.” Rose winced. Tom sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get the party started, shall we?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Champagne and Tears</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tom and Mary work out their differences.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you guys don't hate me for the extra length and the extra drama</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a loud party, to keep it simple. It was what Granny would have called a nightmare if there weren’t so many older ladies and gentlemen she knew. Robert and Cora kept to themselves quietly despite this. Robert, who was bursting with excitement at seeing Tom and Mary walk in (even if it wasn’t together like he had hoped), was having a tough time pretending he didn’t know about Tom’s affections. He had already told Rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Robert, darling, you’re all jitters!” Cora whispered with a concerned expression. She leaned her head closer to his as she spoke, clutching her glass tightly. “Did Carson give you bad news? Is Bates alright? Mary isn’t giving you any trouble, is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Earl of Yorkshire gave a lighthearted, nervous chuckle, leaning back to answer his wife. He kept his eyes on Tom and Mary, who, for whatever blasted reason, were on opposite sides of the room. “No. Everything is fine, my dear. Your little hunch about you-know-who was just a tad truer than we thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cora’s smile went up to her ears. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robert! That’s fantastic! When will she tell him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cora, I’m afraid it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>who must tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Robert’s eyes twinkled at his wife. Oh, it was so liberating to finally know of a secret the rest of the household didn’t. “I don’t know how Mary feels, but Tom most certainly is in love with our daughter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Violet, seemingly from out of nowhere, popped her head between Robert and Cora. “Is he? Then why is he leaving your daughter to have a shattered heart? You should know she’s devastated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama, what are you talking about?” Cora asked. Her mouth turned down in worry. Robert felt his spine tingle with fear — how could he have left that part out?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom is leaving Mary and the rest of us.” Violet squared her shoulders, fingers tightening on her cane. “True love really does conquer all, doesn’t it?” She sniffed the air disdainfully before shuffling off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom? Leaving? Robert, is it true?” Cora touched his arm, turning her husband to look at her. Her perplexed expression only made him feel worse. He sighed, taking a moment. “Robert…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cora, darling,” Robert said softly, “I wish I could say no. But if there’s a chance that Mary won’t accept his feelings, he’s already as good as gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Robert, no…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t sway his mind, Cora,” he said. “It’s his decision.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Goodness me, Rose outdid herself,” Mary muttered under her breath. Like Robert had spotted, she had come in alone. Currently, she was staring down at her feet and holding a small glass of champagne. She didn’t know who to talk to; Edith never wanted to listen to her problems, and right now, Tom </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> her problem…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, as if on queue, someone walked up to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, if I may, Lady Mary,” a warm, although trembling, voice spoke to her. Mary knew his soft tones, and they sent shivers down her spine, down her legs, up her neck. She distantly recalled that all-too-real dream she had dreamt that seemed like a forever ago, along with its secret kiss that not even Tom knew he had given her. Mary lifted her head but did not look at the man in front of her. He carefully took her hand. “May I have this dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” she asked quietly. “Aren’t you going to leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t decided yet,” Tom answered, turning her head toward his with a gentle, ever so tender brush of his knuckle. “If we can’t dance, then at least let me look at you, darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have looked at me from over there,” Mary argued. Her voice came out much quieter than she would have liked. “From wherever you’re heading off to.” She didn’t take her hand out of his. She couldn’t. She cherished the touch too much to sever herself from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“America,” he said, still as docile as he had ever been toward her. It made her eyes prick. “But there’s only one reason I would go, you know.” He stroked her cheek. Mary jerked her face away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” she asked in a hushed tone. “Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom nodded — she saw it from the corner of her eye, she wanted to peek so badly — and took Mary outside of the room. He laced their fingers together, she realized, pulling them far away from the parlour where the party was being held. She recognized all the people who had been there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every single one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realized too late, however, that Gillingham was also at the party. Mary just bit her tongue and waited for Tom to tell her what he needed to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re alone, my darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You call me your darling,” Mary pointed out, running circles into the back of his hand with her thumb. His hand in hers seemed coarse, calloused, rough with age, and with experience. It also seemed warm and all-too-perfect. “Why? I’m no one special.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom laughed a small laugh, almost a chuckle or a scoff. “You’re special, Mary. I can’t describe how special you are to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you leaving?” Her words were rushed, emotional, filtered by the ghastly glob of thickness that kept her from swallowing too hard. She looked into his eyes, studied those crows’ feet and the corners of his lips, wondering why he could be smiling through this conversation when all she wanted to do was cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mary, my beauty, aren’t you listening?” He carefully set his hand on her face, cupping her cheek. She let him. “I’m not leaving, not if you love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I get the feeling you don’t mean like we love Edith,” she whispered. Her body shook. “Tom, don’t do this to me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all crashing down too fast for her to process. So many things made so much more sense to her, now. She wanted this, she wanted it with every fiber in her body. But at the same time… she couldn’t jinx herself. She was married once; her husband was taken from her. She couldn’t lose another one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tell me if it’s possible,” he said with a barely audible voice. “Tell me if it’s possible for you to love me, too. I don’t want you to marry Lord Gillingham if you don’t love him, I don’t want you to even think about it. I want you to marry someone you can be happy with for the rest of your life… and if that’s not me, Mary, just say so now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary couldn’t be a widow again. Of any sort, not until she was old enough to accept that time had beat her. Her children deserved — </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had only one child. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Only one</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Immediately, her heart weighed on her, sinking down, down, down into her belly. Good God, how madly had she fallen in love with this man? How idiotic was she, mistaking her sister’s little daughter as her own? Falling for her husband? If Sybil were alive, she’d be heartbroken… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom, it’s far more complicated than that, you know it,” Mary told him. Tears filled both their eyes, and at least as far as Mary was concerned, her heart had stopped beating. She took a deep breath, looking up at him. “If it was simply down to whether or not we were in love, most marriages I know wouldn’t have made it where they are today. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> wouldn’t have made it! Our children, Tom! They belong to our late spouses, they’ve been brought up as cousins!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So? They can be siblings, too! George and Sybbie can have parents that love them! We can love each other! We don’t have to do this dance anymore!” Tom stepped toward her, then took two steps back. He wiped his eyes. “Everyone’s known about </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> feelings, damn it! Why keep me on edge? What about </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> feelings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at her… his soft, grey-blue eyes filled with a quiet sorrow. Mary ached to tell him she wanted him. Just him. But she was afraid; too afraid to admit it and lose him, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom, it’s more than possible,” she said finally. A tear fell from her own watering eyes. “I do love you. I’ve loved you far longer than I care to tell myself… but I don’t want to marry you.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Shock was the only thing on Tom’s face, in his heart. At first, joy and disbelief had started to take over; he hadn’t felt so happy since the day Sybil told him she was pregnant; he hadn’t been in such relief since Sybil agreed to bloody marry him. But Mary’s confession… both confessions… he didn’t know what to say, what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why won’t you marry me?” he asked, surprised at how calm his tone was. He couldn’t look at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I can’t stand the idea of losing someone, again, Tom!” she shouted. He jumped at her tone of voice. “I can’t be a widow, again! I can’t give myself anymore hope that God wants me to be loved by a man!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He understood her hurt, her fear. He gulped and made his way over to Mary. “Darling, if God didn’t want you to be loved, I would have never even looked at you.” He set his hands on her hips. She set her hands on his chest, shaking and looking away from him. Tom kissed her forehead. She was so small, so vulnerable; how he had never truly seen her before. “Because I’m so in love with you, I can’t describe it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” she sniffled, looking up at him. “Why? You’ve seen me at my worst, why are you still here? You know I’m awful…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I also know that you’re one of the most loyal, passionate, and cunning women I’ve ever met. You’ve helped me grow into a better man, and helped me reach a point in my life where I can marry again without feeling like I’m forgetting Sybil.” He smiled down at her, sniffing himself. “I know that your happiness is just as important as my own. I want George to be my kin, and I want you to feel the same about Sybbie…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom, she’s always been like my own,” Mary said. “How badly do you want to marry me, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beyond words, darling.” He kissed her cheek. “Beyond words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll still have to think about it… but you must know I’m in love with you before you give me a deadline.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom laughed. When he was asking Sybil to marry him, he felt as if his love would never change, but he was impatient for an answer. With Mary, he knew that he could love her patiently, slowly. He loved his love for Sybil, but it was so different from whatever his heart harbored for Mary Crawley. “I don’t want you to rush… I can wait until June, darling, the new year…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes softened. Mary leaned in. “Can you kiss me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…Mary? Tom? Where did you go?” an all-too-familiar voice came calling. Tom laughed as Mary rolled her eyes. Rose was probably more excited than they were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re over here, Rose,” Tom said, letting go of Mary. He moved a few paces away. “Don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did it.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is not the end of the fic!! Take in mind THIS IS *NOT* THE END OF THE FIC XD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Changed Plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mary turns down Tony’s proposal. Edith finally shows up</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this chapter is so short!! I’ve been busy :/</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tom never did get to kiss Mary. Rose wanted to tell everyone, Robert could see their bursting, electric smiles, Cora did a happy little dance. Tom had felt like all eyes were on him during the party, but now, he watched as everyone kept their gazes on Mary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a jump to call her his Mary, but it was so close… almost touchable… yet not within reach. He could be patient. He could easily wait forever to be her husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom watched Mary nod to her mother, shake her head at Violet, and smirk triumphantly at Lord Gillingham.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ve made up your mind about marrying me?” Tony asked Mary. She nodded with a wide smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m terribly sorry, Tony, but I have other plans,” she said. Tom didn’t realize he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> next to her until she grabbed his hand with confidence, lacing their fingers. He gave a small, apologetic smile to Gillingham.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Other plans?” Tony looked between the two. He started to laugh. “You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>got</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be kidding. Mary, you can’t use your brother-in-law as an escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He isn’t an escape,” Mary scoffed. Tom squeezed her hand, but Mary didn’t squeeze back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you in love with him?” Tony pressed, arching a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I love him.” Mary sounded fake. Tom chewed his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that wasn’t what I asked.” Tony grinned. Tom swallowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you in love with him?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She had said it just hours, ago. She had said she loved him. Why wasn’t Mary answering? Tom looked at Mary with as much anticipation as Lord Gillingham was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mary?” he whispered. Mary looked up at him, eyes so soft. He bit his lip. Mary looked away from him, and Tom loosened his grip on her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was too good to be true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, now, Mary. I think you’re too afraid to admit you’ve fallen for me,” Tony said quietly, though it could have been screaming. Tom looked around the room — everyone but Gillingham had gone home, and the family was staring at the three of them. Even the servants who had been upstairs watched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw Cora and Robert watch with knitted brows and downturned mouths, holding each other with worry. Rose covered her mouth with both hands. Edith, bless her soul, was the only one without any clue to what was going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama, what are they talking about?” he heard Edith ask. Violet answered her before Cora could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A romance that hadn’t made itself clear until tonight, my dear. All will be explained.” Violet moved her head away just as Edith’s face twisted into a shocked expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mary?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she hissed. Tom’s attention was taken by Mary tugging him forward, holding his hand so tightly it could have been her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m marrying Tom, Tony, and it doesn’t matter if you think it’s fake or not.” Mary stood in front of the agent protectively. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> in love with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom sighed with relief and smiled. “That’s your answer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet, you,” she teased, face turning into a rosy color no one in the household was used to. “I cannot accept your proposal, Lord Gillingham. I’m already engaged.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see no ring,” Gillingham tried again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom reacted quickly. Claiming Mary, he had thought before, might have felt like snatching her from the world like his previous marriage. Tying her down so he could look at her, just for a while longer. But Mary never felt like that. Even though he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>claimed her. “I surprised her. I asked her without preparation,” Tom explained. “We couldn’t wait any longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony’s smile turned from amused to forced. He glowered at the two. “Marrying your in-law… that’s a little inbred; isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary’s mouth dropped open, insulted by the suitor. “Oh! How </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare </span>
  </em>
  <span>you —”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone jumped. Tom felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Robert’s burst was louder than any other he had over the years, and his anger was visible just by glancing. His veins were popping, his eyes were bloodshot, and his whole body was shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS CALLING MY SON-IN-LAW AND MY DAUGHTER INBRED, HOW </span>
  <em>
    <span>DARE </span>
  </em>
  <span>YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE AND BULLY MY ELDEST INTO MARRIAGE!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone backed away from Lord Grantham, even Cora. Lord Gillingham took several steps toward the exit as Robert stomped in strides that took up three of his usual ones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Grantham, I’m sorry for offending you,” Tony whimpered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave me and my family in peace! Unless my children welcome you back, I will NOT let you into my house to mock them!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Robert!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cora chided. “Your ulcers!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter. Gillingham left without another word, and Robert pulled his suit jacket down with a huff. He turned to Mary and Tom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re getting married, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are,” Mary smiled. Tom laughed with joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here I was thinking I was going to wait six months, darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone came to crowd around Mary and Tom, congratulating and kissing cheeks and hugging. Everyone except for Edith. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was no one going to tell me about this?” the second-born sister questioned, her big eyes a tad wet with confuddled tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a last surprise of the night, Mary went to Edith to dry her tears. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so selfish, Edith… I only found out tonight, myself. I kept my feelings secret for so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edith started shedding more tears. A wrangled gasp escaped as well. Tom had forgotten to tell her anything in truth. No one was supposed to know. “Oh, no! Mary, you’re drunk!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not! Edith, no one expected any of this, tonight.” Mary sighed. “I’m a little dazed. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If this turns out to be a joke I won’t forgive any of you, you know,” she warned, sniffling and dabbing a handkerchief on her eyes. The family laughed. “Sybil and Matthew wouldn’t be surprised. The amount of time you two spend together…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose danced lightly with glee. “I’m just happy I’ll be able to help with your wedding!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom looked at Mary. They both knew what this meant. A wedding Tom never had and one Mary didn’t want to repeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Happily Ever Downtown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brary Wedding, final part</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I figured the story would be tied up nicely, with a little bow, too, if I used the downstairs POV. I hope you all enjoyed reading!! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The downstairs staff never had so little time to prepare a wedding, nor never so little to prepare for. Everyone had thought that Lady Mary would have such a small wedding party, nor Tom Branson such a big one!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! I never thought I would see the day where </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tom Branson</span>
  </em>
  <span> stood in front of an altar! In front of </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Mrs. Hughes laughed, placing a hand over her heart as she looked to the ceiling. “Our Tom Branson, marrying his second Crawley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas rolled his eyes. “He probably planned it. He’s gone off thinkin’ he’s better than the rest of us.” He flicked a cigarette into the metal bin by the piano. “Marryin’ Sybil meant he had a higher lifestyle, but now? Now he gets to run the estate and have children with the heiress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Hughes, Anna (who has snuck down to grab some thread for the veil), Mrs. Patmore, and Ms. Baxter all froze with rage. Mr. Carson, unbeknownst to the rest of them, was standing in the hallway with his eyes popping out from ’neath his brows in fury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, he said in the lowest but loudest tone he could muster, “Is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> the way you wish to speak about Master George’s new stepfather?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was the chauffer, Mr. Carson. He shouldn’t be gettin’ no ideas, aye?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go… go polish something!” he spat. Thomas scoffed and left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one could really blame Mr. Carson for worrying—that was just his nature. But when he started letting every worry eat at him, the rest of the downstairs household knew that it was only Elsie Hughes who could tame him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Carson, you must calm down,” she chided lightly. “We have six more days, and Lady Mary could not be any happier than she is right now, save another wee baby or if Matthew sent her a gift from Heaven.” She set a hand on Carson’s arm. “She’s been married before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath. “Quite right — she has. My apologies. To everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one was upset with Mr. Carson. In fact, everyone was excited for the upcoming wedding. The flowers were minimal, and Mary had stamped her foot down immediately to tell her father that if Tom wanted to be married in a Catholic church, she was going to do it!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, nobody objected. It was Tom and Mary’s wedding, for God’s sake, and it was going swimmingly. Mary was ecstatic, the whole family was, but Tom was nervous about the whole ordeal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Could he bring Mary down by being her husband?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Could he just be an escape route from </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>suitors?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if Sybbie or George grew up and thought the marriage to be strange?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A million questions filled the poor man’s head. America seemed like a silly dream, now, as well as his identity crisis. He knew exactly who he was now: Tom was a fool for marrying for love, but he wanted it so, so bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted Mary’s warm, sleepy smiles. He wanted Mary’s hand to hold. He wanted flirtatious winks in the hallways and cuddling in bed with the children. He wanted to have as many babies as Mary could handle. He wanted to help her run the estate. Tom wanted everything he could get with Mary, and give her everything he had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wedding was only a short time away, but he wanted it done and over with. He didn’t want just the wedding. He wanted to be Mary’s husband and lover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary seemed overjoyed each moment she saw Tom. She would kiss him hello, kiss him goodbye, laugh and tell him how much she missed him, even though it had only been a few short hours. “I love you,” she said once, whispering it like someone would say that a silver chain is beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom would say it back, just in Mary’s ear for only her. He was counting the days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, the actual day arrived. Tom hadn’t seen Mary at all, much less spoke to her. He was ushered to the church quickly, Robert making sure he was out of the house before Mary woke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t want any bad luck, you know,” Robert said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand that, Lord Grantham —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me Robert, or Papa; I don’t know why you don’t, my boy.” Robert fixed Tom’s suit one last time, and made him stand at the altar. “Morning weddings are nice, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom was still at his father-in-law’s words. Calling him just Robert? Or even Papa? The earl’s granddaughter, Tom’s little baby girl, called him Donk. Matthew only called him “Robert.” Tom? Tom was unwelcome the first couple years. He didn’t know he was ever really a </span>
  <em>
    <span>son. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now… Now he was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tom, is something wrong? Wedding jitters?” Robert stepped back, looking him over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to call you Papa?” he asked, laughing. “You think of me as your son?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robert’s eyes widened. “Oh. I suppose I should have said something about that, Tom. I’m sorry.” He gave an apologetic smile. “I’m a stubborn man, but yes. I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tom grinned broadly, tears shining. “Thank you. But I’ll stick to Robert.” He took a deep breath, and they waited for Mary to come for the wedding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the wedding actually started, Mary was being walked down by her father. Tom was waiting eagerly. Mary smiled through her veil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood next to Tom with an energy that he couldn’t describe. “Are you excited?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beyond words, darling.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I finished it! How did you like it?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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